
# Ajayan | In brazen disregard for the laws of the land and the voices of its indigenous stewards, the Kerala State Electricity Board (KSEB) has once again exhumed its long-contested proposal for the 163MW Athirappilly hydroelectric project in Chalakudy. Despite facing repeated roadblocks - legal, ecological and moral - and a definitive rejection from the tribal communities after the implementation of the Forest Rights Act, 2006, across the ecologically sensitive Vazhachal division in 2014, the KSEB appears undeterred.
Cloaked now in the alluring guise of 'tourism development', the board has attempted to repackage this controversial venture as if to circumvent constitutional safeguards and public scrutiny. In a bid to sweeten the deal, the KSEB now claims that the proposed project will enhance water inflow to the Athirappilly waterfalls - promising a picture of perennial beauty even in the parched grip of summer. This appears more like a calculated charm offensive than a scientifically grounded guarantee, raising eyebrows among conservationists and tribal rights activists alike.
With the implementation of the Forest Rights Act, the indigenous communities of Vazhachal were, for the first time, legally recognised as rightful custodians of their ancestral forests. And they wasted no time in exercising that power; their very first collective act was to pass a firm resolution opposing any attempt to resurrect the long-disputed Athirappilly hydel project.
During the height of the agitation in 2012, renowned ecologist Madhav Gadgil addressed the tribespeople with words that would echo like a clarion call: “The most effective means to prevent the realization of this project is to ensure the rigorous implementation of the Forest Rights Act, 2006. By doing so, you shall assume the role of custodians of the forest, thereby ensuring that any developmental endeavour on your ancestral land proceeds solely with your informed consent.”
His message was not merely inspirational; it was strategic. And the community, grasping its deeper significance, followed it with unwavering commitment, upholding the Act not just in letter, but in resolute spirit.
Surprisingly, and rather audaciously, despite the clear legal mandate of the Forest Rights Act, KSEB has chosen to sidestep both law and logic by announcing its renewed hydel ambitions without so much as a word to the rightful forest dwellers. In what amounts to an act of institutional disregard, the board has failed to initiate even the most basic consultation with the indigenous communities who are the legal custodians of the land.
In conversations with Metro Vaartha, several tribal leaders expressed their dismay, revealing that they first heard of the project’s revival not from the state, but through informal channels. "We were not consulted, not informed, not even considered," one said. Their message, however, is unequivocal: they will challenge this move, both on the ground and, if necessary, through the courts, asserting their rights, their voice and their ancestral bond with the forest.
Mohanan of Malakappara, who heads the Sangham, a collective of the nine villages where FRA has been implemented, said a meeting of the Sangham would be held soon and the future course of action decided. “There is no going back,” he asserted.
Back in 2014, when the project was reluctantly shelved, its estimated cost stood at approximately Rs 1,600 crore, a staggering figure, especially when broken down per unit. Fast forward more than a decade, it is obvious how exponentially this cost must have ballooned. Yet, amid the sterile arithmetic of crores and contracts, what remains conspicuously absent is any acknowledgment of the verdant forest wealth poised to be sacrificed. It is not merely the majestic wildlife that stands to perish, but an entire ecological tapestry, right down to the invisible micro-organisms that sustain the forest’s delicate balance. “We know the forest better than anyone and will oppose any move that aims to destroy it,” said Ajitha of Pokalappara, who also is the secretary of the Sangham, her voice carrying both defiance and sorrow.
Mohanan drew attention to yet another alarming development - the proposal for a new hydroelectric project at Sholayar, which seeks to re-harness water already used for power generation. The plan envisions channeling this water through a network of tunnels to extract every last drop of energy. The cost is enormous as the site earmarked for this engineering ambition, blasting rocks, is no barren stretch of land. It is the nesting ground of hornbills, birds whose very presence signals ecological health. More troubling still, the entire fragile region doubles as a vital elephant corridor. “This isn’t just infrastructure; it’s intrusion,” Mohanan remarked with quiet urgency, revealing that the matter has already reached the doors of the High Court. The Sholayar proposal is not an isolated case. “There are already five dams choking the Chalakudy river basin,” he added, painting a grim picture of relentless exploitation. Each dam, each diversion, is a step closer to the slow suffocation of a river system.
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